


After the Snape Incident (Wolfstar x Harry Styles: Falling)

by simplysirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, M/M, One Shot, Pining, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:20:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26862778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplysirius/pseuds/simplysirius
Summary: Sirius is left reeling after almost leading Snape to the Shrieking Shack. Existential dread inspired by the song Falling from Harry Styles.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 45





	After the Snape Incident (Wolfstar x Harry Styles: Falling)

Sirius Black often wondered how he would be remembered. He wondered if he was just the sum of his mistakes and failures, his deviance and his insolence. He wondered if his bravery and quick wit, his genius and talent would be thrown to the wayside. Sirius didn’t mind if nobody remembered him after he was gone, but if his name still lurked on the tips of tongues, he wanted to know where he stood. If he were to die right here, right now, what would the morning newspaper say?

He doubted it would mention the time he performed seventh year spells on Remus’ crippled body on the floor of the Shrieking Shack last month, while they were only in their fifth year. He doubted it would mention when he helped James score the winning goal against Slytherin in the last game of the season. He was sure it would mention he was a blood traitor to his family and forbidden to return home. He was sure it would mention his dislike for maintaining law and order around Hogwarts. James might say he was a fine friend who should wash his socks more often. Snape would say he deserved a long kiss from a Dementor. Remus would say…well, Sirius wasn’t sure what Remus would say.

A week ago, Remus might have been blushing too furiously to manage any words, curling his chapped lips inwards, as if he could still taste Sirius’ mouth. Now, Remus would probably frown and shrug, insisting that he didn’t know him that well. 

And maybe it was true, because Sirius was starting to feel like he didn’t know himself, either. The mirror reflected the same as it always had; long black hair, a nose that was a little too pointed, eyes an endless dark blue, deep enough to drown in. But when Sirius hung his head over the waters of the pond near the back of the Hogwarts grounds, he saw a different story. Through the ripples, a stranger stared at him, face blank and legs struggling to hold up the weight on his shoulders. This was a person who enjoyed cruelty. Who didn’t try hard to be callous because it flowed through his veins as easy as blood. This was a person that would proudly carry the Black family name through the streets, grinning as the crowds parted in silent terror. 

This was the person Sirius had promised himself he would never become. But somehow, Sirius had fallen into his rippled reflection and now wore the unfamiliar, cold skin that fit a little too well.

Why had he done it? Sirius tried to rationalize with himself; he never told Snape to go down the path underneath the Whomping Willow. It wasn’t his fault he was a nosy, arrogant prick who couldn’t see through waterfalls of haughty sarcasm. 

Why was he trying to rationalize it? Sirius put Remus in danger. He put James in danger. He hated Snape, but did he really want him to die? Sirius didn’t blame Remus for avoiding him; he didn’t even want to be around himself anymore. 

No matter how hard he clawed at his clothes and no matter how hot he made the water spewing from the shower head, Sirius couldn’t tear this new person off him. He couldn’t bare to look at Remus, too ashamed to even breathe in the same room, so Sirius had exiled himself from the dorm. He longed for the nights cradled in Remus’ arms, nose tucked against his chest, soft snores falling next to his ear. 

Sirius couldn’t even bring himself to attend classes, refusing to sit next to Remus, within arm’s length of Snape, and pretend everything was okay. McGonagall had drilled James and Remus, convinced they knew where Sirius was hiding, but they adamantly insisted they had no idea where he was.

They didn’t know that Sirius had claimed the Room of Requirement for himself, simply requesting a place to hide. What had materialized was a small room, just large enough for a bed, a bedside table, and a round window that overlooked the Quidditch field; a closet, really. But for Sirius, it was big enough, and it’s not like he was expecting company any time soon. At night, he stole away to the kitchen, feeling his way around in the darkness for leftover dinner rolls and scraps of mince pie, running back to his makeshift room with a bottle of fire whiskey tucked under his arm. 

Sirius ate with the fervor of a starving animal, dropping crumbs onto his shirt and going to painstaking lengths to pluck each tiny morsel into his mouth. Sucking on his fingers, sticky from the minced meat, he realized this was yet another night alone, with no real end in sight. Could he get used to this? He tried to imagine his life without Remus. 

A life without Remus was lonely rides on the train from London, the car full of rowdy students doing little to cure his desolation. A life without Remus was waking up each morning without a reason to open his eyes. A life without Remus was long nights plagued with unrelenting nightmares and no one around to ease his racing heart. A life without Remus was a life desecrated in darkness. A life without Remus wasn’t a life worth living.

Sirius needed Remus to remind him why he bothered breathing, but what if Remus never needed him again? 

It was then that the door creaked open slowly, startling Sirius who nearly choked on his last bite of bread. From the dark hallway, a head poked through the doorway, illuminated by the soft white light shining from the half-moon outside the window. Sirius would recognized those golden curls anywhere, right down to the warm, vanilla shampoo that he used. 

“What are you doing here?” Sirius gasped, clutching the whisky bottle to his chest, as if that would do anything to protect him. 

“I require the room where Sirius Black is hiding.”

Quietly closing the door, Remus shuffled in, keeping his distance from where Sirius sat on the bed. The room was so tiny, that, if he wanted to, he could reach out and press a delicate hand to Sirius’ cheek. Remus wasn’t sure if he wanted to. Instead, he leaned against the door and rocked on the balls of his feet. 

“You’ve been gone for days,” Remus said, swallowing hard. 

Sirius shook his head. “I know.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t want you to see me,” Sirius answered truthfully. His throat burned and he felt the urge to swallow the rest of the whisky in one go, but he put the bottle on the bedside table.

“Oh,” Remus sighed. “Can we talk?”

Sirius closed his eyes. There was nothing that was going to make this better. Nothing could take away the crippling guilt. Beside him, the bed dipped and his knee was bumped as Remus settled onto the mattress. If Sirius never opened his eyes, he’d never have to see him, undoubtedly staring at him with glacial pity. 

“Please,” Remus whispered into his ear, voice catching in his throat. Sirius relented.

It was the closest he had been to Remus in a week; so close that he could feel warm breath on his cheek, hear the faint thump of his heart kicking at his ribs, feel the sorrow radiating off his shoulders in crashing waves. It was all at once intoxicating. Devastating. Overwhelming. 

Sirius’ next breath ripped from his chest as he doubled over and sobbed, hands clawing at his knees and shoulders heaving. 

“I’m so sorry, Remus,” he choked, drowning in his own tears. “I’ll never stop being sorry.”

Remus opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. What was he supposed to say to that? He couldn’t wrap an arm around Sirius’ shoulders and murmur it’s okay, baby in his ear like he had done in the past, back when the worst thing Sirius did was accidentally break Remus’ reading glasses. How was he supposed to accept Sirius’ apology when the crime was so unforgivable?

“I know you’re sorry,” Remus said as tenderly as possible, though the words settled stiffly around them. 

Digging his knuckles into his eyes, Sirius sniffed, wiping his tears and clearing his throat. He needed Remus to hear him loud and clear. “I shouldn’t have said anything to him, I know that. I just…I…I don’t know what I was thinking, but I never meant to hurt you or him, you have to believe me. I’d never do anything to hurt you Remus, and I can’t take it back but I wish I could, I’d do anything to take it back. I don’t know what to do anymore, but I can’t keep living like this…without you.”

He felt like he was in the middle of a perpetual freefall, spinning wildly out of control, grasping at the air to try to stop himself. The wind burned his face and his lungs were screamed raw. Sirius knew that the only person who could catch him was Remus, if he was willing.

“I still care about you,” Remus insisted, but the words sounded hollow in his chest and he couldn’t meet Sirius’ eyes. Their last night together, whispering under bedsheets and kissing with a soft passion, Remus had murmured between every baited breath that he loved Sirius. Was that still true? Sirius didn’t have the courage to ask. “It’s…just a lot right now. You know?”

They sat there in silence, motionless. Sirius had apologized. Remus had accepted. They were running out of things to say, and no amounts of tears or pulls from the whiskey bottle could change that. 

“Remus?” Sirius asked quietly, voice dripping with fear. He waited until Remus looked at him, folded hands pressed against his mouth, breath catching in his throat. “What are we now?

A single tear fell before Sirius could finish the question. Remus let it roll down his cheek and settle in the corner of his lips, a salty bite that reminded him that no matter how hard his chest ached and his hands shook, he was still human. Despite the scars and transformations and haunted memories, above all, he was human. And humans, Remus knew, were stupid, fickle creatures who were programmed to feel love harder than any force on Earth.

“You’re difficult to love, Sirius Black,” Remus whispered, “but that doesn’t mean you’re worth loving any less.”


End file.
